


Where We Belong

by Eunoialy



Category: Voltron legendary defenders
Genre: Angst, Hurt Lance, M/M, Zombies, apocalypse au, hurt keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:05:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eunoialy/pseuds/Eunoialy
Summary: The hot afternoon sun made everything worse than it already was. The smell of rotting, sun-baked flesh made his stomach churn.Something about the way the creature struggled made him hesitate. His heart clenched, face scrunching into a look of pure guilt. Pale, gloved hands shook as they gripped his blade. In front of him, a girl that looked to be the age of five was trying to claw at his flesh.There was a sadness deep in his eyes that only a lifetime of pain and suffering could produce."I'm sorry." He whispered, voice cracking. And just like that, he swung out.Blood spattered his face, and he let out a strangled gasp.





	Where We Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! 
> 
> So I love apocalypse au's, and I've been working on making one for a while. Hope you like it!

Short, ragged breaths left him in puffs. Beads of sweat trailed down his pale skin, catching the light that trickled in through the windows. All around him were the furnishings of an average household; a couch sat alongside an end table and coffee table, the dining room held a long wooden table with six chairs around it, and various cooking tools spread out on the countertops. 

In the corner, on the shelf above the TV, a small framed picture showed three smiling faces. Keith swallowed thickly when he spotted it. He couldn't help but wonder where they might have gone. Perhaps they were the ones who lay in front of him, their blood spattered across his white shirt. 

He let out a shaky sigh, shoving his bloodied machete back into his belt. The black jeans he wore were torn and dirtied, and his black combat boots were scuffed. His belt hung loosely, but it did its job. He had bandages wrapped around various parts of his arms and legs, red staining them. 

Carefully stepping over the bodies, he moved into the kitchen. The black backpack slung over his shoulders was light, he was on dire need of supplies. It was getting harder and harder to find what he needed. Many had already taken anything that could be useful.

Keith had been raiding house after house, shop after shop for two years. He'd been alone since the beginning, no one to look after, no one to look after him. In a way, he felt this was better. At least no one would be sad if he became one of _them_ , one of the decaying freaks that wandered the streets. 

The cabinets creaked as they opened. He knew there was no one around, but the sound made his breath catch and his eyes dart around frantically. Inside lay two cans of beans and a box of crackers. Keith wasted no time in shoving the food into his pack, moving along and opening each cabinet as he made his way to the fridge. 

"Shit," his face scrunched into a look of disgust when he opened the door. The lack of power made the contents within the white, metallic box spoil. The smell of rotting foods and spoiled milk blasted him like a wave, and he gagged as he stumbled away from it. Having dealt with half decayed bodies and sun-dried blood for nearly two years should have prepared him for the smell, but he wasn't used to this like he was to the smell radiating from the undead. 

Grumbling softly, he left the small room. Purple eyes flicked to the window. Outside, the sun was beginning to set. The display of pinks, purples, and oranges would have been beautiful if the flipped cars and crimson stained streets weren't there. 

He grunted as he pushed the couch in front of the door. The moon would be out soon, he couldn't risk continuing on his way out of the small town in the dark. The creatures that roamed the suburban sidewalks and yards outside didn't seem interested in him at all, if they even noticed he was even there. Their moans and grunts filled his ears, and his eyes shifted among them.

After situating the large piece of furniture in from of the door, Keith made his way up the stairs. The room he'd decided to sleep in was small. His heart clenched at the sight of soft pink wall paper. The bed against the wall was small, pink and white bedding spread across it as though someone had forgotten to make their bed. 

He grimaced at the teddy bear on the floor, a patch of blood staining its tummy. But he chose to bite back the emotions that welled at the sight. He chose to toss his bag down and lay on the bed, pulling the blanket around him with a guilty look in his eyes. It didn't feel right, the soft sheets rubbed against his skin pleasantly, but it didn't feel right. 

Keith tried to ignore the thoughts of the happy little girl who once occupied the same space. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he allowed his mind to wander. 

~•{}•~

Even in his sleep, his senses were on high alert. He awoke every half hour or so, scanning the area around him and listening intently for threatening sounds before drifting off again. Every small sound had him jerking up in the bed.

Survival ensured Keith hadn't had a good nights rest since this nightmare began. The permanent bags around his eyes were proof enough.

So many things had happened to him. So many things that he'd thought could never happen to anyone. He'd been through hell and back, and honestly, he liked hell better. At least he didn't have to kill people there.

But they weren't people; not anymore. No matter how many times he told himself this, the bitter taste of guilt and regret filled his mouth every time his blade made contact with their ugly grayish flesh. It took everything he had in him to stay sane. He'd taken to abandoning his emotions as a means to protect himself, but it didn't matter. He was breaking inside. 

Heaving a sigh, Keith pushed himself up one last time. His gaze moved to the window. The sky was still a deep blue, the stars hadn't faded yet. If he had to guess, he'd say it was about 4:30 in the morning. 

The distant moans of the godforsaken creatures outside made him purse his lips and he wiped the sleep from his eyes. Once again awake and alert, he stood up from the bed. Black hair lay at odd angles. As he ran a hand through it to calm it, Keith idly noted how long it was. His hair had always been shaggy, but now it was long. 

"Sorry, kid." He muttered, taking a small black hair tie from the dresser. It'd be much easier to see with his hair pulled back. So he tied it up in a short pony tail, dirtied bangs hanging in his face. His pack slid over his shoulders, rolled up sleeves nearly catching on the straps. 

~•{}•~

His breakfast had consisted of half a granola bar. It was chocolate chip, and he gave a forlorn smile as he stared at the wrapper. It had been Shiro's favourite flavor. 

Shiro. His eyes glazed over with tears he refused to let fall. Sighing, Keith crumbled the wrapper in his hand and tossed it to the side. The muscular Japanese man had been close friends with Keith. In fact, people often mistook them for brothers. There was always a brotherly love in the way Shiro smiled at Keith and helped him with his homework. 

But Shiro had left before any of this had happened. He'd gone out on a military mission not long before. Keith didn't know if that made him lucky or not, he didn't know what was happening where Shiro had been stationed. He could only wonder where he was now, what had happened to him. The thought of Shiro becoming one of them made a strangled sort of noise erupt from within him.

Shaking his head, Keith stood once again. He shoved the couch away from the door, gritting his teeth at the effort. The furniture moved across the wooden floor, squeaking as it rubbed against the rough material below. Once he'd gotten it away from the door enough to open it, he squeezed past. 

The yard was small, a white picket fence lining it. Over grown grass covered much of the path, at shrubs blocked some of the view. Machete raised, Keith cautiously stepped down from the porch and moved across the yard to the fence. 

The gate swung open, and he walked toward the trees. There would be less of them in the woods, it was hard enough to traverse the dense plant life with two healthy legs, he could only imagine how hard it would be for them. Every so often, twigs and leaves snapped and crackled under his feet, but he pressed on, going deeper into the greenery in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> I almost gifted this to someone, but I'm not sure how that works really? 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
